


Checking In

by YappiChick



Category: Tangled (2010)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Post Movie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-26
Updated: 2011-01-26
Packaged: 2017-10-15 02:38:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/156176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YappiChick/pseuds/YappiChick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maybe she <i>is</i> as sick as that protective horse implied when he nudged me up the stairs with that impatient look of his. "You doing all right in there, Blondie?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Checking In

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was completely inspired by a request by [](http://grav-ity.livejournal.com/profile)[**grav_ity**](http://grav-ity.livejournal.com/) for some hurt/comfort fic recs.  For some reason, the plot bunnies in my head used that as inspiration for this fic.  I guess it's good practice for my Big Bang fic, right? 

Of course her bedroom has to be in the highest tower, I think just like I always do when I approach the last of the steps.

I wait until my breathing gets back to normal–there’s no reason to make Blondie think that I’ve gotten out of shape or anything–before I knock on the door with my free hand.

The only sound that comes from the other side of the door is a loud, racketing cough.

My previous annoyance at the stairs is forgotten. Maybe she _is_ as sick as that protective horse implied when he nudged me up the stairs with that impatient look of his. “You doing all right in there, Blondie?”

“Eugene?”

I have to admit that hearing the pleasure in her voice stroked my already too large ego.

Hey, what can I say? I might be reformed from my law-breaking ways, but I still am the man who perfected the smolder ™.

But, I’m not going to let her know how much her warm voice charmed me. Not. Going. To. Happen. So I fall back to my tried and true method of sarcasm. “No, it’s another former thief who is someday going to be prince after a certain princess accepts his proposal.”

I can hear her laugh before she starts coughing again.

“So, can I come in or what?”

Seconds later, the door opens.

And I am greeted with a face that looks _nothing_ like Blondie's. I try–and fail–to keep the grimace off my face as I realize that Gradella, her handmaid, is standing there with a scowl on her face.

Let’s get something straight. I _try_ to get along with her. Really. I do. However, dealing with a woman who unquestionably learned manners from a grumpy, bitter person who hates life–and rehabilitated convicts– would get on anyone’s nerves.

For some odd reason, Blondie seems to like her though. Personally, I think it has something to do with the fact that her only friend six months ago was a lizard.

“Oh, Gradella, it’s so good to see you. I see you have removed that unsightly hair from your mole,” I say, desperately looking for something to say.

It could be my imagination, but I swear I hear Blondie groan from behind her.

I press forward quickly, knowing that she will slam the door in my face without any remorse if I don’t say anything else. “I was wondering if I could see the princess.”

“She’s not seeing any visitors!” she says as she begins to shut the door, getting dangerous close to hitting my nose with it.

“Gradella,” I hear Blondie say softly. “Maybe Eugene could stay with me for a while so you could get some fresh air. I would feel terribly if you got sick.”

To my surprise, the grumpy woman’s scowl turns into a soft grin. I realize with some dismay that it seems to be more effective than my smolder!

“Some fresh air would be nice,” she admits grudgingly. “I could bring you up some of those flowers you like so much.”

“That would be lovely,” Blondie says in that almost-but-not-quite-sickly-sweet way she has.

Suddenly, Gradella points a bony finger at me. “Don’t do anything to agitate the princess!”

I _really_ want to tell that woman what I think about her and her ‘don’t do anything to agitate the princess’ remark, but I want to see Blondie more. So, for once, I keep my mouth shut and nod. Anything to get her out of here, I think.

She bows to Blondie before leaving the room.

I let out a sigh of relief as she leaves the room. I see Blondie half-laying on her bed, the covers nearly up to her chin. As I get closer, I notice her pink nose, her slightly pale cheeks and a slightly glassy look to her eyes. And yet, I still think she’s the most beautiful woman in the kingdom.

Yeah, I’ve got it bad for this woman.

“I brought you something.” I pull the bowl of soup out from behind my back.

She didn’t grab for the bowl like I thought she would. Instead, she eyes it carefully. “Did you make this yourself?”

“I think I’m offended, Princess. Just because I nearly started a fire that nearly destroyed the castle kitchen doesn’t mean anything,” I reply, slightly defensive before I realize she’s right. Despite my good looks, I am _not_ a chef. “But, no, I didn’t. Shorty wanted me to bring it to you. For some reason, the guards aren’t comfortable with letting him in the castle gates.”

Her eyes sparkle, despite the fact that she’s sick. “Sometimes, I wonder how _you_ get in.”

“A full pardon by the king and queen for bringing back their missing daughter does have its benefits,” I say, sitting on the edge of her bed.

She sneezes suddenly which causes me to jump up and spill half the soup on myself. Apparently, she finds this amusing because she starts laughing which prompts a coughing fit.

Great, I think as I look down at my sodden pants, I’m _overjoyed_ that someone finds this amusing.

When her coughing stops, I look at her and frown. “Glad you got a laugh, Blondie. You got anything that I can clean this up with?”

She holds out a pink–yes, pink–handkerchief that had no doubt been used. “Here,” she says, smiling.

“Er, no, it’s ok. I’ll pass. I love the feel of chicken stock soaking into my pants,” I reply as I set the bowl down on the table next to her bed. “So, how are you feeling?”

She sighs. “I wish this cold would just go away.”

“Welcome to the world without magical hair,” I quip, taking my seat on her bad again. “Colds aren’t so bad once you get use to them. You know, if you ignore the constant coughing, the inability to smell, the complete lack of energy…” I trail off as I realize that I’m probably not making her feel better.

“Gredella says that I should be fine after I get some rest.”

“As much as I dislike her, she’s right,” I say, noticing just how tired she looks. I doubt she had been getting much sleep with her constant coughing fits, I lean forward and brush her short hair out of her face before cupping her cheek. She leans into my palm and smiles softly.

“I should let you get some rest,” I say quietly.

She covers my hand with her own. “I’ve missed you the past few days.”

“Me too,” I admit thickly. The idea of wanting to spend my time with Blondie still surprises me at time. Without thinking, I lean forward to give her a kiss.

“Eugene!” She says, her green eyes wide. “You can’t! I might get you sick!”

I wink. “What can I say? I’m still a rebel at heart so I’ll take my chances.”

She meets me more than halfway, like she normally does. Have I mentioned how much I love this woman? Our lips gently touch before she pulls away.

“I feel better already,” she says, grinning.

The things this woman does to my ego!

She lays her head back on her pillow and her eyes start drooping. I run my hand through her hair, content to watch her as she drifts to sleep.  
   
“Feel better soon, Rapunzel,” I whisper before I drop a kiss in her hair.  
   
Now, I think with a grimace, it's time to find me some new pants.  



End file.
